Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under?
by Nefertiri's Handmaiden
Summary: The morning after. Part II in the EVIDENCE series. Rated for some VERY VERY VERY MILD adult implications. If anyone really feels they would like me to rate it M, review and let me know, and I'll be happy to.


Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under?

(Evidence, Part II)

Nefertiri's Handmaiden

Disclaimer: I don't own Superman. Dear God, I wish I did. I'd buy my own island and a private jet and I'd make Superman movies every other year until I was dead.

Note: The morning after.

Note the Second: This is the second in the Evidence series, which is a series of viginettes I've just started in which we see different little glimpses of proof of Lois and Clark's relationship. These viginettes are NOT written in any sort of chronological order.

Note the Third: The title was blatantly stolen from Shania Twain. I don't own that, either.

* * *

When Clark woke up, he wasn't immediately certain where he was. 

This was, of course, and extremely strange feeling.

However, it only took a few moments before the memories of the night before came rushing to him in a mental blur of color and scent and strong, heady joy.

Immediately he reached out across the bed for Lois' warm body, frowning as he wondered how she had escaped his arms in the first place. His frown deepened when he reached across to her side of the bed and, to his surprise, found it empty. His lashes lifted, revealing confused blue eyes. Where was she?

Slowly, he extended his super-human hearing past the comfortable confines of the room. His awareness spread throughout the house.

Ah.

She was in the kitchen. Jason was there too. He could hear the light chinks and clunks as Lois moved dishes from the cabinet to the table and the sizzle of what he assumed was bacon. Jason was softly, but excitedly, telling her of the dream he'd had last night. Apparently, he had dreamed that he could fly all by himself. A lazy smile stretched across Clark's face.

Their heartbeats were calm and constant, so relaxing and comforting to Clark's ears, that he nearly fell back asleep to their cadence. However, his desire to be with his family was stronger than his desire to sleep.

In fact, it was strange indeed that the two of them had beaten him up. He rarely slept through the dawn, the sun's energy pulling him from sleep more often than not. He supposed it was the long, busy day he'd had yesterday (three car accidents in Metropolis, a wildfire in California, an airplane landing in Germany, a boat capsizing in the North Atlantic, and two attempted rapes, one in Metropolis and one in New York), followed by the long, busy night that had followed in Lois' bed.

Well, that last part was certainly nothing to complain about.

They'd made love slowly, kissing the whole time to keep things quiet enough that Jason wouldn't wake. She'd pressed against him and buried her hands in his hair as he moved over her. The only thing he'd been able to hear was her heart thundering.

He'd felt her in his soul. Felt that connection that he felt every time – something that was deeper than physicality. She'd had to have felt it, too. Her breath had caught in her throat when he pulled away from the kiss just enough to make eye contact and hold it for a few moments.

God, he loved her.

Those thoughts galvanized him into action, urging him to see her again, and hold her in his arms, and confirm that she was his. He sat up and looked around. The window caught his attention first: its white curtains, only half drawn, were doing nothing to prevent the sun from pouring in. He rose to his feet and found a pair of his pajama pants that Lois had thoughtfully placed at the foot of the bed for him. He pulled them on and stepped directly into the path the sunlight cut across the soft blue carpet of the bedroom floor.

His eyes slipped closed as he bathed in the light of the yellow sun. Its rays felt warm on his skin and he could feel the slight tingling sensation of the energy charging his body. Before he noticed, he was floating several inches above the floor.

With a smile, he lowed himself to the floor and turned back to the bed. There was a t-shirt of his laying on the foot of the bed, too. He pulled it over his head.

He wasn't living at the house with Lois and Jason… not really. He still had his apartment and his own bed and closet. After all, they weren't married… yet. But he did spend many nights in her bed and the occasional morning in her kitchen, something that they both thoroughly enjoyed and that Jason seemed to like, too. So, consequently, he had about two pairs of pajamas, a spare Clark Kent suit, and a spare Superman suit stashed in her closet.

After adjusting the t-shirt over his torso, he focused his attention on the door. He took two steps toward it before he tripped. Only super-human reflexes saved him from toppling to the floor. Pulling himself out of the fall to float above the floor, he spun around and landed soundlessly to discover what had tripped him.

It was a boot. His boot, to be precise. He'd come to Lois the night before in the Suit, and his boots had quickly been discarded to the floor near her bed and remained there throughout the night.

The strangest thing about the situation was that there was only the one boot, lying haphazardly on its side. He glanced around in search of the lone boot's mate. Not seeing it, he utilized his x-ray vision, and found the missing boot just under the bed. Bending down, he collected both boots and set them neatly next to each other at the foot of the bed.

He glanced back once more before exiting the room. His boots remained where he'd left them, the toes tucked under the frame of the bed. The cape and Suit lay neatly over a chair next to Lois's dresser. It looked, Clark fancied, as if they'd always been there. As if that was where they belonged.

As it should be.

Clark padded softly down the stairs to the kitchen where his family waited.


End file.
